


Hobson's Crib

by pr_squared



Category: A Brother's Price - Wen Spencer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24392659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_squared/pseuds/pr_squared
Summary: Maisie Bristow follows her family tradition and enlists in the Queens' Own Infantry
Comments: 13
Kudos: 14





	Hobson's Crib

“You’re sixteen now, Private Maisie!” Corporal Hetty Bristow addressed her younger sister proudly.

“Congratulations!” chimed in Eliza and Alicia, two of her older sisters who had joined the regiment just a few years before. 

The Bristow’s were an army sisterhood. Each carried the sword tattoo on her right wrist. The diverse sisters were all crib-sired and included more than a few orphaned comrades from other kindreds shattered in battle. The Bristows provide one ten -trooper squad in Beta company of the 1st battalion and one squad in the Charlie company of the 2nd battalion of the Queens' Own Infantry regiment. 

Beatrice Bristow, one of the Bristow sisters, had made lieutenant on her own merit, a rarity. She had been more of a mother than a sister to her other junior officers. The Uxbridges, Langstons, and de Witters provided most of the officers. The Uxbridges and de Witters owned land and had split their sisterships and bought commissions for their younger sisters. The Langstons had long been a simple trooper sistership, like the Bristows. Then a Langston had birthed a son and purchased their commissions with his brother’s price. 

Maisie enjoyed her sisters’ sincere good wishes. She was proud to wear the bright red coat, tricorne hat, and polished leather belts and boots of the Queens’ Own Infantry. She had her own musket, her own bayonet, and her own ammunition satchel. Her uniform was likely the finest clothing she owned. 

“You know,” Alicia offered with a smile. “If little Maisie’s old enough the serve in the Queens’ infantry, she’s old enough to visit Hobson’s crib. 

Hetty and Eliza laughed. Hetty had already birthed a fine daughter.

Maisie felt herself flush. Certainly, she wanted a daughter someday – but not today. She was by no means ready to bear a child. She hoped the others had not noticed her embarrassment.  


Alicia had a touch more sympathy. “More things to do at Hobson’s than get a brat in your belly.”

Maisie knew very well went on in the cribs. She had read the tales and heard her sisters recounting their exploits. She herself had rarely even seen a boy. No kindly father raised the Bristow girls. She and the other recruits had once seen young Chad de Witter, standing with his mothers in the reviewing stands. Back in the barracks, each girl in the company claimed that he had smiled and waved at her – personally. 

Except for the pictures and diagrams in the training pamphlet, she had seen a naked boy only once. She had stood with her mates in her training squad and a dour faced corporal with a well-worn crop hanging from her belt, brought out a stark-naked boy for their inspection. He was little older than the girls. dark complexioned with dark brown eyes and profuse dark curly hair, all over his body. His muscular angularity contrasted with her smoother female form. His mere size was intimidating. He stood a head taller than any of the recruits. He was taller even than his handler. He weighed as much as any two of them. His feet were huge; his hands were huge. His bare hairy skin showed the leavings of her corrections. His expression left no doubt who commanded and who obeyed, despite the striking difference in size.

“We call him Billy,” Drill Sergeant Josie explained. “Display!” she barked. The boy stood with feet at shoulders’ width and clasped his hands behind his head. 

Maisie had smiled. He seemed as intimidated by the drill sergeant as were she and her mates. She saw the sword brand on his thigh and his registration number beneath. 

“This is Billy and this is Billy’s willy.” Drill Sergeant explained, pleased with her wit and holding his flaccid cock in her gloved hand.

Maisie’s eyes drifted down to his male paraphernalia, hanging between his brawny thighs. Guess that’s what all the fuss is about, she remembered saying to herself. Suddenly, she felt slightly flushed and breathless.  


“Turn! Show us your cute little ass.” The boy pivoted as if he were on a parade field. His high and tight muscular ass showed the marks of the lash, in various stages of healing. Some said a boy should be beaten regularly like a rug. If you don’t know is his failings, he certainly does. 

Would she be expected to whip a boy? She was a soldier. She loved to tease her younger sisters but to whip a helpless naked boy? She was a soldier but Inflicting pain held no attraction for her. 

The drill sergeant squeezed one meaty buttock. One of the girls sighed aloud but quickly swallowed her moan. Several girls called out but were shut down by the drill sergeant’s glare. Everyone laughed nervously.

It was time. Tuesday night, Maisie walked to Hobson’s with her sister Eliza and her friend Gwen Barnes. She was anxious and the three shared a stiff drink before they left. Maisie was unused to the strong liquor. Well, she was likely to become accustomed to many new things tonight. 

“Don’t worry,” Gwen tried to reassure you. “Everyone’s anxious for her first. I was. You know what they say, try it – you’ll like it.” 

Gwen thought about her last visit to Hobson’s. She went on a Sunday night with her friend Hester Wright. The crowd on Sundays was different. Boys were whipped on Sundays. Some women came to watch but for a few silver gil, you could wield the lash yourself – not something she would want to do herself. People said that the way a boy moved under the lash was a good preview of how he would move in bed.

His name was Enoch. He screamed when first struck. The “corrections” continued. All knew that a correction too mildly delivered was no mercy. Too soon and too often, it needs be repeated. The screams became groans and then mere whimpers.

Well, Faedra Hobson freed Enoch from the manacles and removed his hood. Hester was quick to claim him. “That’ll teach you not to hold back on our tips!” Faedra cautioned him. “We found twenty crowns hidden in his room!” she told Gwen and Hester. He was still gagged. His body showed the angry leavings of the whip. Actual tears stained his face.

Hester took his arm and steadied him.

“Third room on the left. Would you like him restrained?” Iley asked, helpfully.

Hester smiled. “Queens’ Own Infantry. I think we two can handle him.”

Though he stood a head taller than either, the two women helped him up the stairs, one on either side– third room on the left. They lowered him onto the bed. His oozing wounds bloodied the sheets but the Hobsons shouldn’t be too surprised.  


My friend Hester is a real firecracker, Gwen shook her head at the recollection. Hester licked the tears from Enoch’s tear-streaked face. She removed his gag and kissed him deeply, unmindful of the drool that dripped down his chin. Wickedly, she tasted his blood. Her deft hands worked him to a fully usable erection. A night to remember. 

“We’ll pick you out a really nice boy,” Eliza added.

Unsettling images ran through Maisie’s mind. In some cribs, the girls had said, the boys were chained to their beds. You could mount a boy and he hardly even knew, half conscious in a drugged stupor. The boys were whipped regularly. Boys who tried to escape were lamed and could no longer even walk. Diseases ran rampant. 

Gwen saw her agitation. “Hobson’s is a well-run military- approved crib. The boys are clean and well-tended. Taken better care of than me and my sisters!” The Barnes, like the Bristows, had no husband to care for their younglings.  
“A boy is more valuable than a mere trooper. A boy can earn his brother’s price in less than a year on his back and then it’s all profit.”

Maisie listened and struggled to keep walking. She wished she had had a second drink. 

Gammie Hobson oversaw the common room that night. Her sister Faedra tended bar and Iley guarded the cash box. A weeknight, traffic was slow. 

Gammie saw Eliza Bristow and Gwen Barnes. She saw a new girl – she looked like a Bristow - and knew right away that this was her first time. The girl’s eyes darted from naked boy to naked boy as they waited tables, carrying trays of drinks and dodging the mischievous hands of their customers. She chuckled at the girl’s show of bravado. Gammie was a capable business woman but she had some understanding in her heart. “Welcome, girls!”

“Hi,” Eliza answered. “My sister’s first time.” Hobson’s had eight boys and she knew them all. Five were working tonight. She looked for Jared, her favorite. She remembered her last birthday.

Jared knelt and undid her trousers. 

Eliza was eager to feel his mouth on her body. His breath warmed her sex. She steadied herself on his shoulders while his tongue slipped under panties. She held him tightly but threw back her head and sighed. 

She laid in his strong arms. Her breasts pressed against his brawny chest. She was limp with pleasure. He lifted her naked from the bed. He just lifted her up – swept her off her feet in his strong arms. Like a father’s love, she thought but she had never known her father. He carried her to the bathing chamber where a large tub steamed with fragrant hot water, not lukewarm water already dirtied by her sisters. 

He climbed in with her and washed her head to toe. His mischievous large hands touched her gently everywhere. She trembled when he touched her breasts and exquisitely sensitive sex. He rubbed a fragrant shampoo into her hair. She closed her eyes and luxuriated in his scalp massage. This was the best birthday ever!

Maisie blushed. “Don’t say anything!” she whispered hoarsely and looked to see who might be listening. No one seemed to pay them any mind. She looked at the boys. Each was stark naked. Each bore a sword tattoo brand and a registration number tattoo on his right thigh. She looked at Gammie. “Aren’t they cold – all naked like that? How do you just pick one?”

Gammie smiled. “You can have any boy you want.” 

More confusion bloomed on Maisie’s face.

“You can have any boy you want, as long as you take – Fletcher- yes – take Fletcher.” 

Eliza grinned. Hobson’s was famous. They called it a Hobson’s choice. She settled up with Iley Hobson.

“Fletch,” she called, “put down your tray and meet some special ladies. Treat ‘em nice.”

Only three tonight. Fletcher remember his night with four. They rode his cock and his face with enthusiasm. He hadn’t really given anyone “head.” More accurately, they had just taken it. Then, when they had had their fill, they dressed and one suggested a game. Each laid a gold crown on his belly. Using a two-minute egg timer and going clockwise, each took her turn masturbating his well-used cock. Should he ejaculate, the woman prior to his current tormentor would win. Should he resist three rounds, twenty-four long minutes, the crowns were his. Well, he had almost won. And the woman who won, gave him a crown.

Maisie, Eliza, and Gwen followed Fletcher up the stairs. Maisie could not help but stare at his very tight, high, very masculine ass. He guided them into a room and poured them drinks. “Who’s the special girl?” he asked. 

“Her,” Gwen said and pointed. 

“Me,” Maisie offered at the same instant with much less certainty. She saw the bed, an easy chair, and a small table with three chairs. Two hour glasses – one larger and one smaller - and a two minute egg timer rested on the night stand beside the bed along with a bronze ring about two inches in diameter. Fletcher inverted the larger hourglass.

“Her very first time,” Eliza added. 

Maisie thought she spoke with no necessity. She gulped down her drink in one swallow. Her throat burned and she thought of other places that she might rather be just now.

Fletcher knew the routine. The girl looked scared and he tried to reassure her. If he spooked her, he was likely to earn ten lashes on the whipping post. “Good evening, my Lady.”

She was Private Maisie Bristow – not yet Private First Class - and no one had ever call her “my Lady.” She kind of liked it. The boy – clearly a man - was so close. She could not help but look at him. He was aroused and he wanted her. She swore she could smell him too – nothing unpleasant or unclean but something musky and masculine – something that spoke to her without words. 

The man knelt like she was some noblewoman and kissed her foot. He looked up. “I honor the goddess within you.”

Maisie giggled and put her hands on his broad shoulders. She looked to Eliza and Gwen. “What do I do now?”

“Tell him to lie on the bed and mount him!” Eliza taunted. “Hurry up. I want my turn.”

Maisie panicked. Her friend Luella Williams said she had just ordered her boy to the bed and make himself hard for her. She had mounted him and taken him like a veteran, with her boots still on. He never suspected that he was her first or so she claimed.

“May I help you undress.” Fletcher offered, kindly.

Maisie sat down and he straddled her left leg to pull off her boot. His ass was right in her face. Tentatively, she reached out. His skin was warm to the touch. His hairs ticked her fingers. She ran her finger down his spine to his tailbone. She saw the bulging ball sac between his muscular thighs. She thought to touch him there but decided not against it. Left then right, her boots came off. He helped her fumbling fingers unbutton her tunic. He removed her trousers. She trembled when he kissed the inside of her thigh.

“You lay on the bed.”

Maisie laid prone in her bra and panties. She closed her eyes tightly. She didn’t feel very masterful. What would Gwen and Eliza think of her. What would Eliza tell their sisters? Was she some sort of sentimental romantic cock-whipped stag hag?  
She felt Fletcher’s large strong hands on her neck, shoulders, and back. He unfastened her bra. Despite her anxiety, she felt herself relax as he massaged her flanks and kneaded her buttocks through her panties. He worked his way down to her thighs and calves. She sighed aloud when he cracked the little bones in her feet.

“Turn over,” he urged. 

Maisie complied eagerly.

Fletcher worked his way up again from her feet to her thighs. Pointedly ignoring the hungry place between her thighs, his busy hands stroked her hips and belly, her shoulders and then massaged her breasts.

She trembled when his thumbs abraded her erect nipples. He touched the inside of her thighs and she spread her legs to ease his way. He stripped her of her panties. He lowered his head. She grasped his head in both hands and held him to her when he licked the inside of her thighs. His tongue traced her engorged folds and circled her pearl. She was flowing. He wasn’t anywhere as skilled as Gwen but she was certain that she liked it. Gasping, she reached her climax. 

She pushed his head away – looked him in the eye. She took a deep breath and nodded her desire. She had come here for a reason but his cock looked so huge. 

He took her hand and hooked two fingers under his cock ring. His cock throbbed in her other hand. She rubbed his sex against her folds until the tip slipped into her opening. She pulled him toward her.

He thrust against her. She pressed back and with a grunt swallowed him whole. She ground against him. She was aware only of the place where their bodies joined. The room, Eliza, and Gwen, all disappeared. Gaining confidence from the waves of pleasure that rolled through her body, she urged her boy onto his back and rode him. His eyes were closed. She kept strong pressure on the cock ring to prevent ejaculation. She knew that much. Her other hand sampled the mingled fluids where their bodies joined. She thrust her fingers into his mouth and shuddered with her second orgasm. He was still erect when she dismounted. 

Maisie poured herself a third stiff drink while Gwen and Eliza took their pleasure. She savored this drink slowly. Gwen rode him hard and he moved well under her. Both were flushed Suddenly, Gwen reached behind her. Maisie couldn’t see exactly what she was doing but it looked like she had jammed her thumb up his butt. Fletcher gasped and lifted his hips clear from the bed. Gwen kept her seat and took her orgasm. Maisie could come to like this, she concluded. Fletcher’s poor cock, glistening with the leavings of their arousal, was still stiff and hard when they both had finished. Eliza took her turn then Maisie took a second turn. This was her night after all. She left Fletcher a golden crown for a tip.

“Are they all as good as Fletcher,” Maisie asked wistfully as they walked home. “Wasn’t he just very special?”

“Special for you,” Gwen offered. 

Eliza just smiled.

“Wonder how much it would cost us to buy him? Wouldn’t it be nice to have a boy at home to cook and clean and other things?” She grinned wryly.

“I think Maisie’s in love!” Eliza teased. She shook her head, remembering her younger days. Maisie needed another visit to Hobson’s and soon. She just might like Jared. 


End file.
